A Muggle At Hogwarts
by fuzzy-grapes
Summary: completely changed this story. A muggle is at Hogwarts and she thinks wizards are total lesser beings than Muggles! Watch Ron be outraged! Dumbledore be mysterious! Snape hate knitting! and Hermione save the world!
1. A Wrong Turn

It began with a wrong turn, as do many things in life when you get down to the essentials. States cross country. Downcast day, lots of mud, and many, many, many hard-to-see course markers splayed out across the musty, overgrown forest.

Charlotte didn't have a good track record (excuse the pun) with such things – she had won the district cross country by a mere two seconds after accidentally going 100m in the wrong direction when she failed to keep the orange flags on her left and the yellow flags on her right. She almost got run over by a car in the process – but, in hindsight, perhaps it was that extra rush of adrenaline that had got her over the line. Whatever. Today was supposed to be _her_ day. She had gone over the course map a hundred times – hell, her coach even drew it on her _hand_ so she wouldn't get confused.

She got off to a good start – broke away from the rest of the field early. Now she was just cruising by herself, trying to control her breathing and the motion of her arms _and follow the goddamn course. _Nothing – NOTHING! – seemed out of the ordinary _in the slightest_… Except she hadn't seen an official in a few minutes now and the map on her hand suggested she should be approaching a turning point any second now… She tried to quell the rising panic. If she could just run a little faster… Maybe if she had just goddamn stuck with geography past year 8… Played a little less tetris and learned the skill of reading a map…

_Oof._

She tumbled somewhat un-gracefully over a tree root and fell into the ground. It was dizzying; the world seemed to turn upon her and swallow her up. But when she sat up again, thoroughly annoyed (if there was ever such an understatement) everything seemed normal. She just had a sore head AND WAS REALLY FUCKING ANNOYED. She jumped to her feet, brushing dirt off the large scrape on her shin, and kicked the tree root savagely with her racing flats. Unfortunately these shoes are not made for foliage destruction and, as such, the tree caused considerably more damage to her toe than she had forseen.

"MOTHERFUCKER," Charlotte screamed into the silence of the forest. A bunny rabbit appeared to look at her reproachfully. She was past caring. "Fuck you too," she spat, and broke back into a jog, muttering spiteful nonsense under her breath. "My one big chance… Who put these fucking leaves here… So much for fucking tetris…"

She tried to get back onto track but, with a panic, realised she had completely lost any sight of a marker. She ran a tiny bit further, but then decided it was past time to give up. She found a nice little rock to perch upon, and began to earnestly weep. "I just tried so hard," she sobbed, gazing up at the sky; a tantalising blue diamond peeking between the tops of pine trees above her. "I'm not cut out to get lost in a forest… I didn't listen in outdoor ed! I took two minute noodles on all the camps! I'm wearing a fucking running bra and bike shorts! If there are bears I will be eaten alive… Oh god, I can't even update my facebook status about this! Where is my mobile phone… I don't know how to build a fire…"

She thought about it some more, before announcing. "I just want to tell everyone here that, if I had to sum up my emotions right now in one word, it would be the unhappy face emoticon."

You can imagine her surprise when something in the forest answered back.

Faintly: "Maybe I don't want to do this anymore. Maybe I-"

The voice was angry. Stressed. Worried – exactly the kind of thing a runner in the middle of a race would sound like!

Her heart lept up to her throat. She sprang to her feet, ignoring the blood now gushing from her leg, and raced towards the voice. She tried to keep her pounding footsteps silent – got to sneak up on them, slyly overtake. Got to-

"You gave me your word, Severus." An old man's voice. Maybe an official? Strange name for a girl, Severus. Maybe it was some kind of in-joke between a coach and his charge. Maybe-

Charlotte broke through the clearing at full speed and stopped abruptly. Because things were really, _really_ not how they had seemed to her _in the slightest._

"Mother _FUCKER_," she snarled, taking off her shoe and throwing it at the ground in full force, a sob choking her voice. As she broke down emotionally on the forest floor, the two men looked at the new arrival in shock and surprise.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had _not_ been having a good day. He could feel his days ticking along, he was trying to make the most he could of them, but the fact still stood that, with his left arm in the current cursed state it was in, he simply _could not_ knit. Sure, he could enchant the needles to follow the pattern and simply gaze on as they created knitted brilliance in front of his very eyes – but it was not the same. It would never be the same. Dumbledore was old enough not to let this bother him – but in the face of more dangerous matters he did not see anything wrong in allowing himself to bask in the worry of trivial matters.

Then Severus wanted to talk to him – oh Severus. Dumbledore felt very strongly for the poor chap, he had the uptmost respect for what the man had become, but there was no turning away from the fact that certain things _had to be done_ and it was up to him to follow the orders. The conversation was tedious and painful … But Severus had given his word. There could be no backing down from it.

They heard a rustling in the bushes and turned around, wands at the ready. Out burst a wild looking girl, probably about 15 or 16, dressed in the most peculiar red and blue lycra outfit. A large scrape on her shin was gushing blood. She met their eyes with a look of primitive anger. As the watched, dumbfounded, she swore passionately and – Albus chuckled privately at the melodrama of this – tore off one of her shoes and slammed it into the forest floor.

Then she collapsed herself onto the ground and started sobbing wildly, muttering words like "GPS… facebook… _fucking rabbits_…"

The two professers stood in a semi-stunned silence for a moment, as the girls sobs washed over the forest in waves.

"Dumbledore?" Snape said his name less as a question, more as a plea. This was a bizarre situation. Albus stroked his long beard, as he always did in times of trouble that could be treated with more humour than, say, those involving imminent death of anyone besides Lord Voldemort.

"Put away your wand, Severus," Dumbledore finally said. Snape did, reluctantly. Out of the corner of his eye Dumbledore saw Snape following him warily as they approached the girl, his had holding onto his wand from within the robes. He chuckled a little inside his head. _Good man, Severus_.

They had now reached the girl, who was covering her face and wailing.

"Excuse me?" Dumbledore asked politely. "May we help you, in any way possible?"

The girl warbled something that sounded remarkably like "go away". Snape nodded pointedly at Dumbledore and made to sweep away, but Dumbledore put up a hand to stop him.

"Some water?" he asked. "Food? A blanket? You look cold – a bandage for your cut?"

Behind him he heard Snape mutter "come on" but dismissed him with a wave of the hand. "Come on, we cannot just allow you to weep on our forest floor! We have a hospital wing, if you'd care to accompany me to the castle? Perhaps we could get you sorted out?"

The girl finally stopped sobbing and looked up. "C-castle?" she asked, her tear-streaked face gazing over his in clear wonderment. "I-I thought… We're near Kuitpo, right? Near the cross country course?"

Dumbledore was shaking his head gently, about to inquire further, when she gasped and raised her dirty hands to her mouths. "I know what you are! You-you have pointy sticks! You're dressed funny! _WITCHES,_" she shrieked, gathering herself and cowering up against a rock. "I'VE SEEN THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT! PLEASE DON'T HURT ME! PLEASE DON'T HURT-"

"Oh, Lord," Snape muttered behind Dumbledore, a note of amazement in his dour tone. "A muggle at Hogwarts. How on earth-"

Coincidentally, these were Dumbledore's exact thoughts.

The girl was scrambling up the rock now, still shrieking and cowering. "I'VE GOT TO GET AWAY FROM ALL OF YOU! I HAVE A RACE TO RUN, I HAVE TO STAY AWAY FROM BEARS, I HAVE TO-"

Dumbledore knew it was time to take decisive action. "I'm afraid," he said gently, "that I cannot let you do that." He looked from Snape to the girl, and back to Snape. "You're going to have to come with us. We'll help you get back to your destination. My name is Professor Dumbledore, and this is Professor Snape-"

"SWEET JESUS, I CAN'T JUST FOLLOW WITCHES," the girls shrieked, apopletic. She made to run away, but with a wave of the wand found herself unable to move off the ground. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, STOP THIS RIGHT NOW. STRANGER DANGER! STRANGER DANGER-"

With another wave of the wand she was silenced. Dumbldore strode up to stand by her, and knelt to address her at her own height. "I'm not sure how to explain this to you," he said gently, "but we're going to have to sort this out quietly in the castle. For your own good. You understand, this is a strange situation, one we have never had before. Your kind does not generally come here. So I apologise for forcefully restraining you, but rest assured it is for your own personal benefits."

He straightened up – definitely not as sprightly as he once was; might have to borrow more of Minerva's yoga tapes – and nodded to Snape. "Take the girl to the castle, Severus. Cast a shielding charm, no one can see her. I'll survey the grounds – we have to work out how she got in here - and meet you shortly in my office." He stepped next to Snape and whispered in his ear. "Do try to calm her down. Engage her in conversation. Try to find out where she came from. Offer her a lemon drop."

He stepped away, and Snape cast a shielding bubble around the girl, beckoning with his wand to float her along beside him. His expression had soured considerably. In turn, she was trying to burst her way out of the bubble. In fact, the pair looked as angry and sullen as each other. Wordlessly, they made their way up to the Hogwarts castle, leaving Dumbledore worried, bemused – yet not just a little amused - by the sudden turn of events.


	2. Toads

If there was ever anything to be said about Severus Snape, the man sure knew how to keep a secret. His expression was unscruitably 'nothing to see her', customary dangerous malicious glint in the eyes deflecting any unwanted human contact – or just any human contact, full stop. It was _almost_ magical; he could turn the glare on any first grader and they would be deflected from his path, running away as fast as a twelve-year-old girl in pursuit of Justin Bieber. He swept through the halls, girl-in-shield-bubble in tow, mercilessly and almost without incident. Until-

"Longbottom!" Snape barked, halting mid-step, the bubble bumping into his back slightly. "What are you doing?"

Neville Longbottom looked over his shoulder at Snape with a scared and guilty expression on his face and his body half-stuck underneath a collapsed suit of armour. "My-toad," he stuttered nervously. "Then I t-tripped-"

Everyone had a fatal personality flaw, some larger than others. Things like King Lear's inability to understand love and Macbeth's ambition… A definite flaw for Snape would probably be his inability to leave alone situations in which he could vindictively get a kind of revenge.

As Trevor the toad croaked and hopped around from behind the suit of armour, as if on cue, a nasty smirk slowly spread across Snape's face. "Dear me," he muttered (of course he didn't really mean this; in fact situations like these were often the only thing getting him through the day). "Clumsy magic, clumsy person… I shall have to take some points of Gryffindor for damage to the Hogwarts relic, of course…"

Although Snape had magically tethered the shielded ball to the ground, unnoticed by him Trevor the toad had jumped onto the ball, and it silently popped and released a slightly confused, yet highly agitated Charlotte. She looked around wildly, then sprinted for it.

"Aah!" screamed Neville, glad for the distraction, and Snape whirled around in time to see a flash of racing-flat disappear behind a wall. With a roar, he hitched up his robes (damned inconvenient garmets, now that he thought about it) and dashed after her. But she was a trained athlete and he was merely an undernourished wizard – why get good at running when you can just apparate everywhere? – and so even as he set off he realised he had no chance. There were too many stairs, the ghosts wouldn't cooperate with him, and he didn't want anyone seeing him doing anything as undignified as _running_ – it would definitely ruin the intimidating vibe he prided himself on imparting to the children. Peeves, certainly, would never miss the chance to taunt the old Potions master… What he needed right now was a _map_ that might tell him the location of the runaway… Damned Potter…

"Severus!"

The Potions master turned. _Of course_ McGonnagal would turn up just in time to give Longbottom some sympathy. Flitwick was scurrying across the hall to keep up with her too.

"Is anything the-"

Snape cut her off. "Everything is under control, _Minerva_," he said impatiently. Then he remembered finding the Muggle was not his mission alone, and this time he would be able to tell other people what he was up to, and cooperate with them, and do all those other 'theraputic' things Dumbledore was always waffling on about. _Dumbledore_. He had to send the Headmaster a patronus. But how to do it without McGonagall seeing?

"Lovely." She turned her head to Neville, whose eyes were bugging out of his head, still trapped beneath the suit of armour. "Oh dear!" she exclaimed, dashing over to the boy.

Snape thought it was now or never. "Oh, yes, and…" he trailed off. "There's-a-muggle-in-the-castle."

McGonagall coughed. "A what? Perhaps I'm going a little deaf I thought you said-"

"A MUGGLE, Professor." Snape coughed, and tried to recapture his usual composure. "In the castle."

His shrug was cool and casual. 'What of it?' it seemed to say. 'Everything's under control.' 'Keep putting things in inverted commas'.

McGonagall's eyes boggled. "No!" she exclaimed. "No, it's impossible, it's-"

Snape smoothed his frown, lifting his eyebrow distainfully. "Well, yes," he said matter-of-fact. "But, er, I'm sure Dumbledore will locate the girl and everything will be under control-"

McGonagall's face turned faintly purple. "The muggle girl is _loose_ in the castle, Severus?"

A crash alerted the two to the fact that Flitwick had fainted into another suit of armour. There was a slight awkward pause, as Neville tried to tug his robes from under the armour's staff and collapsed into yet _another_ suit of armour. Snape took advantage of the kerfuffle to covertly send off a patronus…

Dumbledore chose this moment to stroll into the castle hall.

"_Very_ mysterious," he announced, quickly taking in the chaotic scene laying in front of him. "I am not worried for the defenses of the castle just yet, but we shall have to talk to this girl closely indeed…" he trailed off. "Severus, you did take care of the girl?"

Snape's frown deepened, _again_. "You received my message, headmaster? There was an incident-"

McGonagall also spoke. "A muggle? You can't be serious, Albus-"

Shaking his head, Dumbledore waved his want and, in an instant, the knights had righted themselves; Flitwick stood up and dusted himself off, trying to restore his dignity. Neville stood awkwardly by the suit of armour.

"My apologies, Mr Longbottom," Dumbledore said. "May I request you return to your classes and do not speak of this incident to anyone until we have sorted it out?" This was not really a question. Neville quaked slightly as he hastened to follow the headmaster's orders.

Dumbledore turned back to Snape and McGonagall. "Luckily all the students are still in their classes. We have – ah – ten minutes to find the girl…" He surveyed his watch from above his giant half-moon spectacles, before rolling up his sleeves ready for business. "Well, let's get to it then."

Then he was off, leaping gracefully through the halls like a gazelle a fraction of his age. For an odd moment McGonagall and Snape caught eyes, equally confused, but then they too leapt off into action.

Flitwick remained behind, checking damage to the suits of armour. "Nasty bump on the head you gave me," he squeaked to the suit. "Might have to put a cushioning charm on you all… don't want anyone suing… Oh, to live in the modern age…"

* * *

This castle was a strange, strange place.

Running, at times like these, was reassuring for Charlotte. The faster she ran – down endless passages and up dizzying flights of stairs – the more normalacy she could attribute to a place like this. If she slowed down too much she could swear the portraits were moving; swear things were floating above her head. She reached a dead-end, and stopped to catch her breath, afraid to look at the oddities that surrounded her.

She eventually came to the conclusion that she was dead; she had died at some point during that goddamned cross country race that she had been fucking training for for ten fucking wasted weeks. This must be the odd place referred to as heaven.

She sat down in a windowsill and looked around. The place was remarkably devoid of people – except for a red-head with a smattering of freckles making his way down the passageway towards her. _An angel?_

"Is it- is it nice here?" she enquired breathlessly. _Gotta make sure this isn't hell._

He frowned at her like she had said something strange. "Well, it's alright, innit, when you're not in Potions with Snape…" he then appeared to take in what she was wearing and looked positively gobsmacked. "Blimey, you alright, then?"

She shrugged, confused, and was about to probe more when a frizzy-headed girl began following down the passage.

"Come, _on_, Harry," she called behind her, flustered. "I don't care what you two say! History of Magic _is_ a real subject and it _does _matter if we are _fifty minutes late_!"

Then she caught sight of Charlotte and stopped dead.

"When we're fighting for our lives against Death Eaters, what are we going to do with the subject, Hermione?" called a voice from out of sight. "_Bore_ them to death with our extensive knowledge of Goblin Warfare from 1342-1564? _Oof_-"

Then the spiky-haired boy also collided with the two other teenagers clogging up the hallway.

There was a _highly_ awkward silence, as everyone stared directly at Charlotte.

She took a breath. "Well, erm… Any of you have a phone I can borrow? I think I need to call my parents to take me home…"

The brown haired girl widened her eyes considerably in realisation. "You're… You're_…_ _How did you get here!_"

Charlotte shrugged dourly. "Believe me, I would rather not be here at all. I have a race to finish. I have an after party to attend. I-"

"Potter! Weasley! Granger!" It was the hook-nosed, sour-faced man from outside, the one Charlotte had just escaped. "Out of class… I should have guessed…"

The trio looked terrified as the old man approached from behind Snape, followed by a woman. Charlotte wanted to run away, but there was really nowhere to go. Also this turn of events was interesting. What kind of place was this – a prison? Were the three people she had just… well… kind of befriended, if she could be so optimistic, about to get into trouble? So awkward…

"I think," the old man announced slowly (how was it Charlotte had never noticed he was wearing what looked like pyjamas before?), "we should all go to my office and have a little chat about this turn of events."

And so Charlotte was bustled off. Still wearing her sports bra and lycra shorts. Still bleeding from the shin. Still with a bunch of people dressed in funny clothes and holding sticks.

Lovely.

**Please please read and reviewwwww... i need something to distract me from all these essays i have to write for school :(**


	3. Lemon Drop?

**another update... i really dislike essays on hitler :(**

"What we need to do," Dumbledore said, surveying the girl over his long thin fingers, "is work out how you got here."

Charlotte, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and an apologetic Neville Longbottom were assembled on a motley crew of squashy armchairs opposite Dumbledore's desk. Snape was standing behind them all, a very sour expression on his thin face.

"No _shit_!" Charlotte exclaimed before she could stop herself. "I need to fucking go home!"

She kind of blushed at her language, but no one else looked unduly affected. Dumbledore was still smiling pleasantly. In fact, he was holding out a dish of lemon drops, which he'd already offered to her about fifty times in the past five minutes. She politely declined, and he cheerfully popped one in his own mouth and placed the dish back on the table.

"Where is your home?" The girl, Hermione, asked her quickly, blushing a little at speaking out of turn. "I mean, you don't sound like you're from around Britain…"

"Britain!" Again, Charlotte seemed out of control. "FUCK no, I'm from Australia!"

Dumbledore had produced a world map Charlotte could swear had not been there before. He pointed to the country in question. She nodded.

"Interesting," he muttered. "Very, very interesting… Severus, what do you make of this?"

Charlotte turned to look at the man skulking around behind them. He was frowning.

"I do not make anything of this, _Headmaster_," Snape snapped. "I'm the potions master here, not a cartographer. I should get back to my classes-"

Dumbledore cheerfully held up a hand. "No, Severus, you will stay. I'm just thinking… Miss Jones, how did you say you ended up in the Forest, again?"

Charlotte heard Snape sigh impatiently. She cleared her throat. "Umm, you know, fell down, hit my head, blah blah blah, ended up here… Please, surely one of you has a phone I can borrow? Just to call my parents?"

Beside her, the red-head muttered, "a _what_?"

Dumbledore chuckled again. Charlotte had no idea why he was so happy.

"I'm afraid we do not use telephones on this premises, Miss Jones," he told her. "I can offer you an owl… No doubt the Ministry would want to become involved should you try to contact your parents, however. Whether there is a way to get around that, and the subsequent brain-altering that would no doubt occur…" He sighed, looking tired for the first time. "Well that remains to be seen."

"Headmaster." Snape spoke again. "Might I suggest that we have, uh, slightly more _pressing_ matters at hand than the memory loss of a Muggle? Might it not be prudent to, ah, simply let this go?"

Charlotte noted the black-haired boy with the comical scar glancing behind him with suspicion. She didn't know what to make of it.

Dumbledore began cleaning his glasses absentmindedly. "On the contrary, Severus, I believe this incident may work out to our advantage…" There was a long moment of silence, broken only by a gnawing sound from the birdcage. Charlotte tried not to make eye contact with any of the pictures. She didn't know if she'd been hanging around stoners too much, but she could _swear_ they were whispering behind her back…

"Miss Jones," Dumbledore finally addressed her. "I am going to send you off with Miss Granger. She will loan you clothing and I will arrange a spare bed in her dormitory for the duration of your stay with us. I'm afraid we'll have to pretend you are her cousin, a sudden, if unorthodox, addition to our school – temporarily, of course. Do not reveal yourself to anyone. You understand, it's for your own good. Severus, you can inform the other teachers." He stood up, and they all understood the meeting to be over. "I will be in contact."

Charlotte felt a little helpless, with all of this being decided without her. "Wh-what about… do you have computer access? Could I not contact my parents by email or something?"

Dumbledore looked solemn. "You understand, Miss Jones, this is a very sensitive issue. Our kind generally do not take kindly to your kind knowing about us." A twinkle played across his eyes. "I do believe, however, you will find life here… hmm… _quite_ different to what you are used to. I trust you treat it as a learning experience and enjoy our hospitality. Good day to you all."

* * *

The school… was strange. Charlotte still couldn't get over how primitive everything was. They wrote with _quills_ for fucks sake! QUILLS! Like, made out of bird feathers and with ink wells and everything! It was so strange.

Hermione tutted at her when she cursed during History of Magic, because she had dropped ink spots all down her page. With a wave of Hermione's wand the spots disappeared, leaving Charlotte to murmur annoyances ("oh, so it's ok if you've got a fucking _wand…_"). In fact, the copious use of magic, and the basic idea that this was a school for witches and wizards made Charlotte more and more convinced of her theory that she had died and was now enjoying a somewhat strange afterlife.

"Ah!" she screamed as Hermione elbowed her to stop her from going to sleep.

Well, perhaps not _enjoying,_ per se.

But this was unreal. The old man hadn't been kidding when he offered her an owl – thousands of them seemed to flood through the windows of the massive hall where they had lunch. Charlotte wrinkled her nose as she protected her roast beef. This was entirely unhygienic – feathers fluttering everywhere!

"So then," Ron was mumbling through mouthfuls of chicken, "Malfoy elbowed me and I pushed him-"

"Yes, yes," Hermione said hastily. "We know that Ron, we were there, remember? We're always there. We always stick together. That's why none of your stories are ever funny-"

Charlotte was pretty sure they had crushes on each other. It was cute.

"Dude," she said to Harry, who looked surprised to be addressed in such a way. "Where does all this food come from! I mean, do you guys have ovens and that, if you don't even have pens?"

Harry snuck a glance over to Hermione. "Well," he began, "the house-elves make it…"

Charlotte almost spat out her mouthful. "House-elves? You mean, like little elves who do the housework?"

Harry nodded.

"Cause where I come from we call them slaves!" Charlotte exclaimed. Hermione was nodding heartily at her. "You guys live in a fucking time warp! This is all so wrong!"

Of course Ron had to put his foot in it then. "It's ok, though," he said reassuringly, reaching for more chicken. "They're kind of like… lesser beings than us."

Charlotte fixed him with a glare. "That's what everyone said about pigs and they sure were eating their words when swine flu rolled around! You guys are sick. This place is sick!"

Hermione looked around nervously. "Umm… Charlotte? People are starting to stare…"

Charlotte grumbled, pushing her plate away from her. She was feeling anxious. She was feeling stressed out. The robes were too loose and the dumb stick Dumbledore gave her to carry was becoming inconvenient. The food was good… but the room was too hot. There were too many people around… All she really wanted was…

"Facebook!" she wailed, putting her head on her hands. "I just need to go on facebook! I have no idea what anyone is up to! I feel so alone and isolated! I feel so-"

Embarrassingly, what else she might have said was lost as she burst into tears. Hermione awkwardly patted the girl on the back, shaking her head at Ron who was making a 'loopy' sign he usually reserved for Luna Lovegood. Harry, on the other hand, was staring at the girl with realisation.

"That's- that's exactly how I feel!" he exclaimed.

Ron punched him in the arm playfully and burped. "Grow a pair, mate."

Dumbledore took some time out from his debate with Flitwick and McGonagall regarding who would win in a fight: Lockhart or Edward Cullen (oh Hogwarts alumni) to survey the children of the school spread out before him. He beamed as he watched Hermione embracing the Muggle girl, Charlotte. Nothing warmed his heart more than seeing tolerance and understanding among the students. This muggle girl was going to be good for the wizarding world… in more ways than one.


	4. Potions

Nothing made Harry want to lose his lunch more than the lesson of Potions immediately following lunch break. The foursome entered the room to find Snape glowering at them from his place to the front of the classroom, curtains of greasy black hair framing a permanently displeased sallow face.

"Do you guys not have shampoo here, either?" Charlotte sniped irritably from behind Harry. Harry heard Hermione shushing the Muggle girl, and sighed. As much as he felt as if he could empathise with the emotional places she had traversed in her lifetime, the girl really _really_ had no concept of when to keep her mouth shut. She'd been griping on about how _primitive_ the wizarding world was since she'd arrived here and, frankly, it was getting a little annoying… Ron said she was just jealous of their magical powers. Harry kind of thought she had a point about the inconvenience of not using pens to write with. He did miss a good, shiny new ballpoint…

"Today," Snape drawled from front of the classroom. "You will be making a sleeping draught. Take care with the dragon bile – or the effects may be irreversible. Instructions are-"

He paused. Pointedly. And stared. Pointedly. At Charlotte Jones, who had put a hand in the air with the earnest demenour of a student innocently asking a question.

"Yes, Miss Jones?" Snape asked, lip curling unpleasantly.

Charlotte nodded, sweeping her fringe out of her eyes. "Why?" she inquired casually.

Snape's lip-curl approached sneer level. "Excuse me?" he softly and dangerously replied.

"_Why_ will it be irreversible?" Charlotte pushed. Harry saw Hermione muttering something to Charlotte, which the muggle shrugged off.

Snape's eyes were glinting dangerously. He did not take cheek from anyone, muggle or otherwise. "_Because_, Miss Jones, dragon bile is_ the substance responsible for the sleeping effect of the potion_." He turned back to the board. "Instructions are-"

Harry saw Charlotte's arm dart up again. The whole room collectively held its breath as Snape turned around.

His eyes narrowed. "Another question, _Jones_?" he whispered silkily, as if daring her to continue.

Charlotte flicked her ponytail back casually. "Well, yeah." She chewed her lip. "I mean, like, do you have any, you know, reasonable explanation for why it is responsible for the sleeping effect of the potion?" She looked around, apparently failing to notice the 'stop right now' warning look on everyone's faces. "Maybe, you know, an explanation for like hydrogen bonding between particles or something which is why it enters the brain and interacts with the hypothalamus or whatever?"

She looked at the teacher pleasantly and expectantly. A vein had begun to pulse in his temple. He looked like he was restraining himself as he swallowed hard. "The nature of magic needs no explanation to_ people such as yourself,_" Snape spat at her. "I suggest you refrain from talking about things _you have no capacity to understand._ The instructions are on the board!" He took a moment to glare at the whole class at a whole. "What are you waiting for?"

Everyone sprung into action.

Charlotte shook her head as she turned towards Harry. "Jeeeeeeesus," she drawled. "Someone's PMS-ing like a mega bitch."

"PMS?" Ron inquired, looking confused.

"It's nothing!" Harry and Hermione responded simultaneously.

Behind them, Charlotte was chuckling for the first time in what seemed like days. "You people are ridiculous," she giggled. "'The nature of magic needs no explanation' – what a cop out! Man where I come from… if only I could use that in my chemistry test answers, hey."

Harry shook his head at her, because he could feel Snape's familiar glare latching onto him, but he couldn't help thinking that she had a point. Sometimes it seemed magic _was _a cop out…

* * *

Later that night, they were all hanging out in the common room when Charlotte started whining again. Ron had been trying to coerce Hermione into completing his Potions essay. And starting it, for that matter.

"I'll pay you," he was pushing. Hermione was looking forcedly at her own parchment, a reluctant smile curling her face.

"Go on," he urged. "Four sickles an hour… Or six, if you manage to get it all done in an hour and a half."

"You realise," Charlotte interjected, from the armchair on which she had been dourly pondering life, "that works out to exactly the same amount as four sickles an hour."

Ron turned to stare at her. "How do you even know what sickles are? Dad told me muggles don't have a money system like ours - there's no way you can tell me how _our_ money works."

As Hermione and Harry started trying to hush Ron up, Charlotte jumped to her feet. "_Excuse me_? Do you even learn maths at this stupid school?"

There was a silence. Charlotte looked triumphant.

"I mean, what would you do if I asked you to find the circumference of a circle, hey? _Magic_ the answer?"

The trio continued to look dumbfounded.

"You probably think _pi_ is something you eat!" Charlotte exclaimed.

Hermione kind of shook her head – she, at least, had completed year 5 mathematics. Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Harry clamped a firm hand over his mouth.

Charlotte knew she should calm down – these people had been very generous with their hospitality to her, they'd even helped her hurry out of the room without having to talk to Snape after the lesson… but she couldn't stop herself. She started pacing the room.

"God, none of you know anything. You don't know science, you don't know maths… You wouldn't even know how to explain the reason that your face would get bruised if you ran into a wall!"

"We don't need to!" Ron managed to protest. "We have magic!"

"Oh, _magic_." Charlotte tried to muster as much scorn into her voice as possible. "If I may be so bold, I'd say _magic_ is a lot less useful than, say, _the internet_! I mean, what do you guys do if you need to find out information really, really quickly? Go to the library?"

"Yes," said Hermione, and something in her tone was fierce and ready to defend the library if the need struck.

"_Google_, my friends," Charlotte proclaimed. "You need to spell check an essay – we have _machines_ for that, kids. _Machines_ invented and made by other people like me! Proof of the achievements of humankind! And what do you have? Fucking magic. I bet you don't even have evil people, nothing to challenge your views of superiority-"

"We have Voldemort!" Harry yelled, suddenly equally angry as the muggle. "A bigger problem than _you've_ ever had to face in your life!"

"Oh, _Boo-hoo!_" Charlotte sneered patronisingly. "What does he do – _magic _ people to death? Big FUCKING deal. We have evil people like Osama, problems like North Korea… The things they could do to our planet would wipe out even _you_, for all your _cute_ magical skills."

Ron also stood up, throwing his essay on the ground. "That is impossible!" he bellowed at Charlotte. "NOTHING CAN DEFEAT MAGIC!"

There was a slight pause.

"Shh, Ron," Hermione soothed, glancing anxiously at Charlotte. "She does have a point. Magic cannot exactly overcome a nuclear war, if it were to occur."

Ron looked disgruntled. Charlotte, suddenly, felt spent and tired. She collapsed back into her armchair, hardly even able to muster the energy to rejoice in her moral victory. "Stupid terrorists," she muttered under her breath. Somehow, she felt a little near tears. To her dismay she could feel a tear trickling down her cheek. She brushed it away angrily, when she felt Hermione's arms embracing her in another awkward hug.

"It's okay," the magic girl soothed. "This is probably very stressful for you but Professor Dumbledore will get you home soon."

Charlotte took a shuddering breath. "I-I know-w," she stammered, trying to get back control. "It's just that… Life's so scary nowadays. What with nuclear rearmament, and everyone fighting over religion, and stupid wars over whose race is more superior – I mean, what the fuck, I guess in your terms that's like someone killing someone because they are somehow less magical than someone else! Totally stupid…"

Hermione, Ron and Harry glanced at each other.

"Totally stupid," Harry agreed, hastily.

Charlotte yawned and stretched. "Anyway… whatever. I feel pretty tired. I guess I'll just, you know, go to bed now. Things will seem better in the morning. They always do."

Cringing at her awkward and cliché-ridden monologue, she climbed the stairs to the girls dormitories and waved her goodnights.

Then she stripped off the robes, put her running shoes on, jimmied open the window, and used a bedsheet to slide down the wall until she had touched down in the garden and could run off into the night…

**Sorry if everyone is retarded and out of character :( thank you so much for reviews :D:D brighten my life :)**


	5. Interrupted Knitting

Professor Dumbledore did enjoy a cup of hot cocoa and a nice long chat with Severus Snape before bed. After enquiring about Lord Voldemort's plans for the week ahead – ("I already told you, Headmaster," Snape had glowered. "He plans to enjoy some recreation time at an upcoming Muggle funfair – no, he is no closer to deciding than before." Then Snape had muttered something about '_frivilous wastes of time_' and '_the integrity of the Death Eaters being nowhere near what it once was_')

"I'm considering taking up topiary," Dumbledore announced to the younger man by way of changing the topic, using his wand to retrieve the stitches Snape had dropped while, quite frankly, butchering the knitting pattern – although Albus would never tell him that.

Snape's expression had reached its usual dour depths. "Are you _really_," he muttered with the slightest shovelful of sarcasm, glaring at the knitting needles as if each one had personally procreated with the only woman he had ever loved in his life after spending their lifetime arrogantly pacing Hogwarts castle and hexing his younger self in every mean-spirited and completely unnecessary way possible-

"Little gentler on the needles, Severus," Dumbledore disciplined, beaming benignly at the fierce glares Snape was trying to shoot his way. "And how did you enjoy hosting Charlotte Jones in your class? From what I hear she certainly, ah, has her certain way of viewing the world!"

Snape clenched the needles tighter. "Disruptive," he growled. "Disobedient. No respect-"

Dumbledore nodded, steepling his long, thin fingers, and insightfully crossing his tartan-slipper-clad feet. "Ah, yes," he mused, looking out over the window. "But couldn't that be said for the majority of us, as well…"

Snape shook his head, muttering bitterly under his breath.

A knock at the door disconnected Dumbledore from his philosophical gazing. He waved his wand to open the door.

"Come in!" he called, taking a long, blissful sip of cocoa.

"Professor!" Hermione Granger rushed in the door, followed closely by Harry Potter and a disgruntled looking Ron Weasley.

Snape quickly and slyly transfigured the knitting into a suitably intimidating book on the Dark Arts. He had an image to keep up.

"Well, well," Dumbledore said, taking in their flustered faces. "What seems to be the matter-"

"It's Charlotte Jones, sir!" Hermione gasped. "She said she was going to bed, and now it seems like she ran out into the forest!"

Dumbledore jumped up, nimbly discarding the slippers for businesslike!cross-trainers, beckoning Snape to do the same. "Well, then we must get to the forest immediately! Follow me, Hermione, Harry, Ronald!"

With one last sip, he drained his cocoa mug. Then they strode out into the forest, to locate Charlotte Jones!

* * *

It was dark and raining.

"Great," Charlotte muttered to herself. "Just great."

She couldn't see a thing. She was torn between sitting here, twiddling her thumbs, and just kind of _waiting_ for her night vision to kick in, or just running around madly in the dark for the hell of it with her fingers crossed, hoping to end up back where she began. _Solid two good options right there_.

_Of course_ witches had no fucking flashlights. They had their fucking _wands_ for that, didn't they.

But as she began her blind stroll through the imposing forest, her mind took her prejudices against witches in strange ways… _No electricity use means less CO2 emissions_, she thought to herself, quite altruistically. _That definitely nips our oil crisis in the bud. No plane crashes, cause they could just magic themselves everywhere. _She jumped over a patch of slippery mud. _Magic means they can get whatever food or clothes they need. There goes the global food crisis._ She frowned, because, if that were true she really had no idea how the wizarding economy managed at all. _Maybe they don't have jobs. Maybe they just laze around in their wizarding homes all day, drinking hot chocolate and sending owls to transfer letters between themselves_…

She gasped, suddenly, jumping down to hide behind a tree.

She swore she saw a bobbing light in the distance!

Naturally, Charlotte panicked. She closed her eyes, and tried to make herself really small and invisible. Then she inched one eye open, to see if the danger had passed. _NO!_ The light continued towards her, closer and closer, and followed by four more gently bobbling lights.

_Oh. My. God._

Maybe facebook withdrawal symptoms were making her crazy. Maybe she was just crazy. But instantly, a plan jumped into her head. She still had the sheet she had used to help her climb out of the window, that had torn and fallen out with her as she jumped to the ground.

"Here! Here! I'm over here!" She cried hurridly, then scampered up the nearest tree quickly, silently thanking her athletics coach for a million torturous – yet overwhelmingly convenient and beneficial! – training sessions. To her satisfaction the bobbing lights were quickly heading her way, and soon the five lights were grouped directly underneath her.

Screaming a war cry, she spread the sheet out and dove directly on top of her would-be-attackers. And then the world seemed to spin out of control again, and she woozily swirled, and swirled, and swirled, and swirled…

**More reviews yay :) :) thank you so much... bit of a short chapter here but i'll finish the story within a week hahahaha i swear to you all**


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